The courtyard is too open for this.

Too many people. Too many eyes.

But you don’t really care right now.

“Amerie,” you call out, sharper than you meant to.

She stops walking.

Harper’s right beside her—already clocking the tone, already defensive before anything’s even said.

“…What?” Amerie turns, arms crossing like she’s bracing.

You take a few steps closer. Not aggressive—but not backing down either.

“Don’t do that,” you say. “Don’t act like nothing happened back there.”

Her jaw tightens. “Nothing did happen.”

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You couldn’t even look at me.”

“That’s not—” she starts, but the words don’t land.

Because she knows.

Harper steps forward now, slightly in front of Amerie.

“Okay, relax,” she cuts in. “You’re making it bigger than it is.”

You glance at her. “I’m talking to my girlfriend.”

“And I’m her best friend,” Harper shoots back. “So yeah, I’m gonna say something when you start coming at her like this.”

Your eyes flick back to Amerie.

She’s not stopping Harper.

She’s just… standing there.

Thinking.

“I’m not ‘coming at her,’” you say, calmer now—but heavier. “I’m asking why she looks like she just saw something she’s not over.”

Silence.

That hits.

Amerie looks away first.

“That’s unfair,” Harper says, quick, protective. “You don’t get to decide what she feels in one second.”

“I’m not deciding,” you reply. “I’m noticing.”

Then, quieter—

“And I’m not stupid.”

Amerie exhales sharply. “Noah, I told you—I didn’t know he was coming.”

“I believe you,” you say immediately.

And that’s the frustrating part.

You do.

“But that’s not the problem.”

She looks back at you.

“…Then what is?”

You hesitate for a second.

Because saying it out loud makes it real.

“When he walked in,” you say, voice low, steady, “it felt like I disappeared.”

That lands harder than shouting ever could.

Harper’s expression softens just a bit—but she doesn’t back down.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you,” she says. “It means she’s human.”

You nod once. “I know.”

Then you look at Amerie again.

“But I need to know if I’m competing with something that’s not even over.”

Amerie swallows.

Her voice is quieter now.

“I chose you.”

You hold her gaze.

“Yeah,” you say. “But did you move on… or did you just try to?”

Harper steps in again, firmer this time.

“She doesn’t owe you some perfect, clean slate overnight.”

“And I’m not asking for perfect,” you reply.

“Just honest.”

That word hangs there.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

Amerie’s eyes flicker—between you, the ground, Harper.

She looks… exactly like she did earlier.

Conflicted.

“I don’t know,” she admits finally.

Barely above a whisper.

And that?

That hurts more than anything else she could’ve said.

The noise of the courtyard comes back in slowly—but it feels distant.

You nod once.

Not angry.

Not shouting.

Just… processing.

“Okay,” you say.

But it doesn’t sound okay at all.